Leave Me Breathless: A Collection
by Calico
Summary: A collection of short stories based on my earlier fic "The Path Not Taken"
1. Moonlight

Disclaimer:  I do not own any of the original characters or stories; Thomas Harris is the author and creator of 'Clarice Starling', 'Hannibal Lecter', 'Ardelia Mapp', and 'Paul Krendler'.  These stories and any new characters are mine (although I will receive no profit from them).  Please ask permission to archive.

These are short stories based on my story called, "The Path Not Taken".  You don't necessarily have to have read it, but they will make much more sense if you do (and I'd really appreciate it).  Each chapter is a separate story, in no particular order.  Please read and review.  Enjoy!

Story: "Moonlight"

Author: Calico [calico321@yahoo.com][1]

Rating: R for language and violence.

Summary:  What really happened to Benjamin Thomason after the party in London?

            Hannibal stood in the corner of the crowded room and watched the duchess parade his exquisite wife around the room.  He could tell by her eyes that she was becoming tired and bored with the people who could at best be described as dull.  He had scouted the piano room earlier and intuited that she would find solace in the privacy there.  He made his way around the perimeter of the merrymakers and walked into the room.  A quick look over his shoulder found her indeed walking in his direction.  He smiled ever so slightly and walked to the back corner, hidden in shadows, to wait for her.  His plan was to come up on her ever so silently, and seduce her in the darkness.  She of course would know it was him, but there in the dark, a mere stone's throw from a room full of people, would give their tryst an added flavor.

            And here she came.  His eyes ate up her visage.  She was wearing a shimmering silver beaded dress cut deep in the bodice and high on the thigh.  He had picked it out for her knowing it would reflect the sparks in her eyes.  Her hair flowed naturally, full with curls, around her shoulders.  A single three-carat diamond set in platinum sat against her breast.  Matching earrings completed the set.  Her scent preceded her into the dim room.

            She went to the piano on the opposite side of the room and stood in the glow of the lamp that rested on it.  She seemed very taken with the multicolored shade and he made a mental note to find an appropriate fixture for their home.  He was on the verge of approaching her when he saw the man walk into the music room.  Hannibal's eyes narrowed just slightly as he watched the newcomer shuffle towards his prize.

            With the first words out of the man's mouth, Hannibal knew this would prove entertaining.  The man, a known drunkard and womanizer, was actually going to attempt to seduce his Clarice.  His smile grew.  Many men had approached her since they had been together, both suave and clumsy.  She deflected them all with a mixture of poise and disdain that he relished.  Yes, this party might just be fun after all.

            He knew once the man, Benjamin Thomason, had introduced himself as the duchess' brother, Clarice would be beside herself.  How to reject such advances without offending the family?  But then Thomason grew vulgar and Hannibal saw the set of her jaw, knew she wanted to badly hurt him for his distasteful and rude comments.  And yet she valiantly tried to extricate herself from him instead.  Only he wouldn't have any of it.  Either too drunk or too stupid, he relentlessly tried to badger her into the one thing he could never possible have.  _What would she do_? Hannibal mused to himself in the dark.  Would she use brute force and simply beat him until he saw reason, or would she use the ever-present pistol strapped to her thigh?  No, not his Clarice.  He could almost read her mind.  She couldn't do anything to draw attention to them, couldn't risk notice.

            Thomason's remarks concerning Clarice's "satisfaction" almost brought a laugh to Hannibal's lips.  Oh yes, she was quite satisfied, thank you very much.  He saw her turn towards the main room, searching for him no doubt.  He smiled.  She was worried about the poor bastard.  Never fear, my darling, he thought.  He will be rightly taken care of.  And when she had finally had enough "polite" conversation, Clarice removed the gent's hand from her arm.  He heard the words hissed through her teeth, "Leave.  Me.  Alone."  And he most certainly heard the snap, disconnecting the thumb from the rest of Thomason's hand.  Pity.  Then out she walked eyes roving over the faces of the crowd, hoping to find her husband discussing philosophy or art among them.

            When she was gone he came out of the shadows.  Thomason sat, leaning against the piano, apparently passed out from pain and booze.  "Well my friend," he whispered.  "Let's have some fun shall we?"

            Benjamin Thomason awoke to the worst headache he'd known in the twenty something years he'd been drinking.  His eyes tried to focus and he realized he was sitting against a tree within a forest.  His arms were tied behind his back and his legs were spread as far as they could, bound to some sort of stakes in the ground.  It was late he could tell, because the full moon was high above him and lit the whole area up.  "Help!" he yelled.  "Somebody! GET ME OUT OF HERE!"

            "I wouldn't do that if I were you."  The masculine voice was deep and rich and had a melodic cadence to it.  Benjamin cast glances about looking for the source.

            "Who are you?  Where am I?" he asked.

            "Where no one will hear you scream, Mr. Thomason," came the reply as a figure stepped out from behind another tree.  As he walked into the moonlight, Benjamin noted he was wearing a black shirt with black pants.  There was a fedora on his head so he couldn't get a good look at his face.  The man carefully walked over to Benjamin and knelt down beside him.  "How's the hand," he asked casually as he reached behind him and squeezed.  Benjamin let out a shrill scream and, satisfied, Hannibal released him.  "Do you remember what happened?"

            "Oh GOD that bloody hurt!" Benjamin moaned.  "What?  What happened?  Um, it was that crazy bitch.  Yeah, Penelope was 'er name, Penelope Maplewood.  She's married to that old qu…"  He couldn't finish because a firm hand had covered his mouth.

            "I'm sorry what was that again?  I didn't quite catch it."  Hannibal leaned in close and the moonlight provided ample illumination.  His hand held back most of the screeching.  "Ah, I see you finally recognize me."  He released his mouth.

            "Look, whatever she said, it's a lie.  Sh-she came on t-t-to me," Benjamin stuttered.

"You're calling my wife a liar?  Well that's just fine.  But you know I want to tell you something.  Just a little secret between us boys, right?  The fact Mr. Thomason is that she is _very_ satisfied.  I have found many exotic ways to fuck my wife, and she has nothing to complain about.  Do you understand?"  A slight nod.  "No, no, that just won't do.  When I said 'Do you understand?' I meant, 'DO YOU UNDERSTAND?'"  He slammed Benjamin's head against the tree.

"God yes!" he whimpered.

"Good!  Now we're getting somewhere.  Now tell me again how my wife _came on to you_."

"I l-l-lied.  Sh-sh-she didn't.  Please Doctor Maplewood, I-I am so sorry I offended you.  Pleeeaaase…"

"No need for apologies my dear boy.  But there is just one more thing I wanted to tell you."  Hannibal leaned in closer, whispering into his ear, "The name's not really Maplewood.  Perhaps you'll know me better by my real name, Hannibal Lecter?"  He could feel the younger man tense up under him and heard his muffled whimpering.  With a smile Hannibal leaned in even closer and said, "I see my reputation's preceded me," and took Benjamin's ear in his mouth and with a single bite removed it.

            Hannibal leaned back as the other man thrashed about.  He knelt there staring at him until the convulsions stopped.  "You sick fuck!" he screamed.  Hannibal simply looked at him, smiling as the flesh hung from his teeth, the blood gleaming black in the silver light of the moon.  "God why are you doing this to me?" he finally cried, slumped against the tree, warm blood dripping down his neck.

            Hannibal drew the limp ear into his mouth, chewed it up slowly, and swallowed.  Then he said, "You insulted someone I care a great deal about.  Besides," he began as he quickly leaned forward and grabbed the man around the throat, "I believe the world would be a better place without you in it.  How many woman have you assaulted Mr. Thomason?  Bullied into pleasing you while your family's money and connections kept you untouched?  What would you have done to Clarice, not that she would have let you, but what wicked thoughts did you have about my beloved?"  Benjamin's hands flew up and tried to pry away the vice that gripped his throat and cut off his airway, failing to notice Hannibal's other hand.  "You, sir, are going to die screaming and I am going to bury your corpse where it will never be found."

            The knife easily cut through the wool trousers, and Benjamin saw his testicle fall to the earth before it slowly, but effortlessly continued up his abdomen and into his chest.  As promised, Benjamin screamed until the knife punctured his heart.

            Clarice heard him enter the bedroom, but did not bother to open her eyes.  She had lain awake for three hours, every since he had initially crept out of their bed.  She had ample time to wonder what he was up to and none of it made her happy.  If this had been a conventional marriage, she might have assumed he'd snuck off to be with his mistress.  In her heart she prayed for such convention.

            She'd had to wait, alone, at the party until almost all of the other guests had departed.  When he'd finally come up to her from behind, he had bent forward to kiss her bare shoulder and whispered, "Miss me?"  She was too angry and wound up from her encounter earlier to answer and they had ridden home in silence.  Little did she know that had suited him just fine.  They had retired immediately to bed, where he had waited until he knew she was asleep before sneaking out again.  The sound of the car had awakened her to his absence.

            Now, slipping quickly into his nightclothes she had the impression he'd come into the room naked.  Where were the clothes he'd worn out?  A small voice whispered in the back of her mind, 'He had to destroy the evidence, you twit.'

            The blankets rustled and she felt the bed sag when he climbed into his side.  She hoped he would believe her to be asleep.  She almost cried out when he whispered, only inches from her ear, "How are the lambs this evening, my dear?"

            "Why do you ask?" she replied.

            "It's not usual for you to be awake so early.  I was afraid you'd been troubled by bad dreams."

            "No."

            He waited, not moving, simply hovering over her like a vulture waiting for the carcass to finally expire.  "Don't you want to know where I've been, Clarice?"

            "Should I?"

            "I would think your curiosity will have been quite piqued by now.  Have you envisioned me in a dalliance, perhaps, with another woman?"

            "Is that what you want me to think?"

            "I wonder, my dear, what would you do if I had a little piece on the side?  Would you fight for your honor as the wronged wife?  Fight for what is rightfully yours?"

            Clarice rolled over to face him, their mouths mere inches from one another.  He was pushing her.  "Do you mean would I kill any woman who had the audacity to fuck my husband?  Isn't that what you're getting at Hannibal?  Would I be willing to _murder_ for you?"

            "Well…."

            She sighed.  Jealousy wasn't a familiar sensation, but now that he'd brought it up, and in their bed no less, she couldn't help but feel the tightening in her chest.  What if she were to catch him in the act?  In her heart of hearts she knew she'd be more than able and possibly quite willing to dispatch the bitch.  "Yes," she said quietly.  "I would kill for you.  Is that what you wanted?  Does that make everything ok?" she said, knowing she'd somehow given him immunity for whatever he'd done.

            "Right as rain."  He kissed her and ran his hand down her side, stroking her in all the right places.  The evening's activities had left him quite aroused and after a few moments she joined him.  The made love until dawn and no more was said about the hours he was missing.

The End.

   [1]: mailto:calico321@yahoo.com



	2. Terror

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the original characters or stories; Thomas Harris is the author and creator of 'Clarice Starl

Disclaimer:I do not own any of the original characters or stories; Thomas Harris is the author and creator of 'Clarice Starling', 'Hannibal Lecter', 'Ardelia Mapp', and 'Paul Krendler'.These stories and any new characters are mine (although I will receive no profit from them).Please ask permission to archive.

These are short stories based on my story called, "The Path Not Taken".You don't necessarily have to have read it, but they will make much more sense if you do (and I'd really appreciate it).Each chapter is a separate story, in no particular order.Please read and review.Enjoy!

Story: "Terror"

Author: Calico [calico321@yahoo.com][1]

Rating: PG-13 for language.

Summary:Clarice awakes to true terror.

It was dark.Clarice lay in the bed trying to remember where she was.Her breathing became rapid and shallow as the panic grew and she sat up trying to see something of the shadows in the room.The sheets she discovered were satin as she gripped them to her chest; her nightgown was silk.Her breathing was coming in harsh gasps and she felt moments away from crying.

A movement to her left informed her she was not alone in the large bed."Clarice?" came the sleepy inquiry.Dear God, she knew that voice.How did she come to be in bed with him?Her heart pounded with anxiety.

His hand slid across the bed and settled on her thigh."Clarice?" he asked again in a stronger voice, coming completely out of his slumber.

_OhGodOhGod_, she thought.She tried to scream, but it only came out as a hoarse rasp.The hand on her thigh gripped tighter and she wanted desperately to tell him not to touch her, but her voice seemed paralyzed.

"Calm down.Breathe deeply.Try to remember where you are.Think," he spoke to her evenly, but determinedly as he sat up in bed beside her.The words didn't do anything but increase her anxiety.Think?Her brain seemed like a bottomless pit; she couldn't hold onto any thought except how did she find herself in this situation?Was she in danger?Or worse, did she want to be here?She looked over to the man, the criminal, she had tracked as an FBI agent.She could see his silhouette in the dark, almost convinced herself she could see his blazing eyes. 

Sensing her rising panic he removed his hand from her leg and reached to the table on his side of the bed.Keeping the light off, he picked up a water glass and brought it towards her.He grabbed her arm with his other hand and pressed the glass to her palm."Drink this Clarice.Drink it slowly and count to 10 in your mind.Do it," he commanded pushing the glass towards her mouth.

_What's in here_? she questioned herself.Was he poisoning her?Drugging her?She wanted to fling it into his face but felt her arm raising the glass to her lips almost against her will.The liquid that flowed over her tongue and down her throat was water, cool and refreshing.She drank in slow swallows.

In her mind she counted.One, two, three…in her mind's eye she saw herself at Muskrat Estate, saw the large hungry swine, saw Hannibal Lecter tied to the forklift.She watched herself save him and then it grew dark again.

Four, five, six, she counted on.He was offering her a beautiful ring, his grandmother's ring.It came with a promise of forever and she felt whole.The sunset ceremony; she was in pink silk; he was dressed in a white suit with a tie the exact same color as her dress.She wanted more than anything for him to hold her evermore.The sun disappeared and again it was dark.

Seven, eight, nine.The glass had been drained but she continued to hold it to her lips.They were at the opera, followed by a midnight supper and dancing on the balcony.There was nowhere else in the world she wanted to be.His hands caressed her back.Life was perfect.

Ten.She opened her eyes and dropped her arm to her lap.Looking to her left she whispered, "Oh I'm so sorry."

With a smile he took the glass from her hand and placed it back on the table.He brushed her hair away from her face."No need, my dear."He placed his arm around her shoulder and pulled her down to rest her head on his shoulder.He felt her pull the air in her lungs, making up for the moments of breathlessness she had just endured.He was grateful the technique still worked.

The first time it had happened he had almost been as frightened as she.It had been almost six months since they'd been married.They'd settled into their home in Buenos Aires.He had awoken to the sounds of her distress and made the mistake of flipping on the bedside lamp.At the site of him her hyperventilation had escalated so fast he feared she would asphyxiate herself.He had gone to the closet and removed his bag of medical supplies and drugs.He chose a strong sedative and filled a syringe with it.Sitting next to her he could hear her wheezing as she attempted to pull air into her lungs."This is for your own good, my dear," he said as he gently stuck the needle into her arm.

In a matter of minutes her breathing was even, but she still stared at him warily."Clarice, do you know who I am?" he asked her.

"Dr. Lecter," she replied quietly.He felt his heart drop at her formal tone, but he kept his voice calm and his face passive.

"Very good, now do you know where you are?"She shook her head."What is the last thing you remember?"

"You escaped in Memphis, killing those guards.And the ambulance attendants.And that man at the airport.Then you wrote to me and said you had no plans to call on me.I guess you lied doctor."Her words were like ice in his chest.But more importantly they held the Appalachian twang he so detested and had helped her clean out of her dialect.In his experience, spontaneous amnesia usually followed a traumatic event.Perhaps Clarice had had a dream that caused her subconscious to suppress their relationship.The question is what could he do about it.

"Clarice, are you frightened of me?"

"Yes.How did I get here, Doctor?"

"Clarice, I assure you that I do not have any intentions of harming you.As a matter of fact I have a great interest in keeping you safe and happy.But to do that I need to do something that you may find a little unsettling.Will you trust me, for a moment?"

She just looked at him and he desperately wanted to grab her and kiss her and tell her she was his wife, but knew that would be the last thing that would work.Right now he needed her to remember.Finally she silently agreed with a single nod of her head.

"Good.Now I need to close your eyes. Yes that's good.Listen to my voice Clarice.You will need to relax.I won't hurt you.Breathe deeply, in through the nose and out through the mouth.Good, again.Listen to my voice, Clarice.As you exhale you will feel the tension draining from your body.Your limbs feel heavy.Feel all the muscles in your body relax.You are floating, down, down, down.

"Clarice, can you hear me?"She murmured an affirmative."In your mind's eye I want you to picture a large, ornate door.Do you see it?"Another murmur."Open the door and enter your memory palace, Clarice."

He then took her on a tour of the place he had helped her create in her mind.He showed her the places she kept her most prized memories, the memories they had made together.When he had succeeded in opening her up to her memories, he inserted a post-hypnotic suggestion, to be triggered by drinking a glass of water and counting to ten, where she would walk through the palace with each successive number.

Satisfied, he brought her back up to her waking consciousness.As she blinked and stretched as if rising from a nap, he questioned, "Clarice, do you know where you are?"

Raising an eyebrow, she said, "In our bedroom.Where should I be?"After gathering her into his arms he explained terrifying hour he'd spent getting her back."Why would that have happened?I don't understand why I would want to block all of this out?" 

"I can't explain that, my dear.Perhaps it was in your dreams.Perhaps the lambs still scream and you felt only by rejecting me could you silence them."He caressed her cheek with his knuckles."I was nearly beside myself with worry."

It had been eighteen months between the first episode and the second.Another two years till the third episode, which had taken place almost four years ago.While happening at longer and longer intervals, Dr. Lecter was still concerned.He absently stroked her hair, thinking she had drifted off to sleep when she said, "How can this keep happening?"

"I don't know."

"I'm so scared.What if it happens and I can't come back?I don't want to go back to being that person."

"On that we're both in agreement, my dear.You are still responding to the suggestion, there is no reason to think it won't keep working in the future.Perhaps there won't even be a need.Go to sleep."He kissed her forehead and listened until her breathing slowed in slumber.Laying awake, holding her, he knew that losing her would be about the worst thing imaginable, considering all the horrors he'd experienced in his long life.He would do everything in his power to see that never happened.

The End

   [1]: mailto:calico321@yahoo.com



	3. The Visit

Disclaimer:I do not own any of the original characters or stories; Thomas Harris is the author and creator of 'Clarice Starling', 'Hannibal Lecter', 'Ardelia Mapp', and 'Paul Krendler'.These stories and any new characters are mine (although I will receive no profit from them).Please ask permission to archive.

These are short stories based on my story called, "The Path Not Taken".You don't necessarily have to have read it, but they will make much more sense if you do (and I'd really appreciate it).Each chapter is a separate story, in no particular order.Please read and review.Enjoy!

Story: "The Visit"

Author: Calico [calico321@yahoo.com][1]

Rating: PG-13 for language.

Summary:While Clarice is waiting in DC for the FBI to finish their investigation, she gets a visit from an old friend.

Clarice turned off the television set.There just wasn't anything on that interested her.She stood up from the couch in the living area of the hotel suite and began to slowly pace.Agents Black and Clemons had not told her she couldn't leave the hotel, but she was certain she'd be followed anywhere she went.She chose to face the boredom of these walls.

Dinner had already been ordered from room service and eaten.She was contemplating taking a long, hot bath when she heard a knock at the door.A shiver traveled down her spine as she for a moment suspected Agent Black had decided to place her under arrest after all.Shaking the pessimistic thought from her head, she walked over to the door and peaked through the eyehole.Her heart seemed to skip a beat; she could hardly believe her eyes.The tall African-American woman waited impatiently, her mouth a thin line of stress, chin jutted forward.She was even tapping her foot.Clarice just stood there and watched her for a moment, considering walking into the bathroom and shutting the door.She saw the other woman raise her arm to knock again and flung the door open.

"Ardelia Mapp," she said in way of greeting.

"I thought you weren't gonna answer," was the icy reply.

"I almost didn't.Please come in."She held the door open and gestured towards the sitting area."Can I get you a drink?" she asked as Ardelia sat down on one end of the sofa.

"If you've got Black Label I'll have some."Clarice nodded and went to the honor bar to pour them each a glass.She handed Ardelia hers and sat on the other end of the sofa, facing her former friend and roommate.Ardelia took a contemplative sip then launched ahead."I sold the duplex after I got your gift."She said the last word as if it had been anything but."I've kept your half the money set aside for you."

Clarice stared thoughtfully into the golden liquid and said quietly, "That's was very kind of you Ardelia, but why don't you go ahead and keep it.For all the trouble you went through," she explained

"Not enough money in the world for that," she replied as she reached into her jacket and pulled out a piece of paper, throwing it onto the small coffee table in front of them.Clarice made no move towards it, but saw that it was a cashier's check written out to her in the amount of $80,000.She was mildly impressed that the duplex had apparently sold for considerably more than what they'd originally paid for it.

The two women sat quietly for a while each concentrating on their own glass.Clarice allowed her eyes to wander to the other woman's hands and noted the large green stone.Noticing her interest, Ardelia remarked, "I was gonna throw it into the Potomac when I got it, but then I decided I'd wait and give it back to you, face-to-face."Lifting her hand and letting the large emerald sparkle in the light she said, "Now I'm kinda used to it."She put her hand down without further comment.Clarice hid her smile and the two fell into the sort of companionable silence they knew before.

Ardelia's voice finally cut the air between them, "Why'd you do it Starling?"

Clarice found herself blinking at the woman, who was probably her closest friend in the whole world.Used to be, she reminded herself.She also had to remember that Mapp was still an active FBI agent."Do what?" she said bleakly.

"Don't bullshit me, Starling.Why'd you go after Lecter, and why in God's name did you stay with him all this time?Rumor's goin' around the Bureau that you married the son of a bitch."

If Ardelia had noticed her own ring, she'd given no sign.Now Clarice lifted her left hand palm in.Ardelia's eyes traveled to the large diamond and ruby ring.Her mouth opened as she gawked at it, much as Clarice herself did when she first saw it, when he proposed to her.

"Ah crap!" was Ardelia's response."God _Dammit _girl!I been practically pounding anyone who was spouting that nonsense, and now you tell me it's true!That _bastard_!What the hell did he do to you?You can't tell me you fell in love with that monster."

"Are you wearing a wire, Ardelia?" Clarice asked quietly.

"What?"

"Are you here to get more information out of me?Did Agent Black send you in?He's out for my blood, 'Delia.I think he'd like to try _me_ for all the murders, even the ones that happened…" she trailed off.

"When you was a kid?Go ahead and say it girl.No point in pretending it wasn't true; he was practically old enough to be your granddad.But to answer your question, no I'm not wired.I'm here for personal reasons only."She bowed her head and said, "Nothing you say will leave this room, I swear it," she looked up, right into Clarice's eyes. 

With a smile Clarice said, "Then I'll answer any question you have.But I warn you, you may not like the answers."

"Good.So then why'd you go save him?"

"That's the easiest one there is.Because it was the right thing to do.Lynch mobs are still illegal in this country the last I knew."

"Good God Clarice do you even hear yourself anymore."She shook her head sadly."Well why did you stay.I've heard talk that you used some psychotropic drugs on you, made you hallucinate he was your daddy."

"Sort of."Clarice took a sip, looking at the watercolor on the far wall and thinking back."He did use hypnotherapy on me to get me to really let out my feelings about my father and his death.At first I didn't know what was going on, but then I did.And I didn't care for a while.It was like floating in a world far away from here, my own private Wonderland.Then something happened, the catalyst so to speak.I _had_ to wake up, and I had to make an important decision.You see his intentions for me weren't exactly what you think.I won't get into the details, but he wanted me to become someone else, someone from his past.I decided it was time for what I wanted, and you see it had become clear to me that I wanted him."She looked at her friend finally, and smiled."He is, was the only person who really ever saw me, not just the body, but the whole person, and I knew that that other person he wanted back, well she couldn't ever exist again and he'd just be disappointed.He needed _me_, 'Delia.We needed each other."

"But did you have to start screwing him and run off to become a cannibal?"Time seemed to stand still as the two women faced each other over the center cushion of the sofa.Ardelia was afraid she'd royally pissed Clarice off, and briefly wondered what sorts of fatal things Hannibal the Cannibal had taught his young wife.Then a sound split the air and for a minute Ardelia thought she herself was hallucinating.There sat Clarice Starling doubled over and laughing."What the hell is wrong with you girl?" she demanded.

Clarice gulped for breath and managed in between gasps to say, " 'Become a cannibal'?" gasp, "You make it sound like a lifestyle choice," gasp, "like joining a club or something."Hard laughter."Like joining the Elks Club!" she practically wheezed with laughter.She wrapped her arms around her as she released the tension that she had held inside for half a year.

Ardelia couldn't help herself, the laughter was so contagious she started giggling at the picture of a 'Cannibals Club'.The friends laughed together for a time.Ardelia said, "You're right!Like, was there some sort of initiation?"

She continued to chuckle for a few moments after Clarice had straightened up and said quite seriously, "Yes, there was."

With a nervous smile she said, "You're still joking, right girl?"

Clarice took a couple of deep breaths to make up for the lack of oxygen during her fit of amusement the pressed on with the most difficult thing she had to say to her old friend."Paul Krendler.Hannibal brought him to the house where we were staying.He was drugged and felt no pain.Um, Hannibal cut the top of his skull off and cut slices of his brain, which he sautéed and fed to me, all while Paul was still very alive and conscious."She turned her head away shamefully."I'd really like to blame the drugs he gave me, but I can't.You should have heard him 'Delia, the things he said to me.For the first time I felt I had power over him, power over myself."She looked back at her friend's appalled face."I swear to you it was the one and only time, although I can't honestly say I regretted it."

"Damn girl."She just sat and processed the information.Paul Krendler had been an A-1 dickhead, but did that make it ok?Then again she had believed that Lecter should have been left to Verger's insane version of revenge, just because of who he was.Finally she just agreed to forget it.Looking at the woman next to her she remembered all the reasons she'd liked her.And found she really wanted to like her again.Why the hell not?"What was he like?" she inquired, nudging Clarice's foot with her own.

"Like how?"Clarice's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Girl, you know.What was he _like_?"

A knowing smile spread across Clarice's lips as she said, "My God he was incredible!"She threw her head back and let out a low howl."'Delia he had the stamina of a man half his age and the experience of a man twice his age."

Ardelia slapped Clarice's knee, "Go on with your bad self."They grinned at each other for a moment."Did he make you happy?" Ardelia asked soberly.

"Every single day."

Ardelia lowered her eyes and said, "They say he killed and you knew all about it."

Clarice caught her breath, and then began shaking her head emphatically."God no!I didn't know Ardelia.I mean I didn't know for sure."She brought the back of her hand up to wipe her mouth.

Ardelia sensing the growing distress reached over and patted her knee."It's ok Starling.I understand.You really loved him, didn't you?"

The sadness that entered Clarice's eyes worried her for the long moments after the question had been asked, until she finally answered, "There isn't a word in any language on this planet that describes how deeply.A part of me died with him, 'Delia.Sometimes I think I can't breath.I have no idea what I'm going to do now."She shook her head slowly.

Ardelia got an idea in her head."Clarice, how are your skills girl?You still got your edge?"

Clarice just gave a dry laugh."I spent eight years dodging international authorities with the world's most wanted criminal.I think the edge is still there.Why?"

"I've been thinking for a while I'd like to get out of the Bureau and, you know, go solo.There's plenty of good work out there in the private sector for experienced people.Lots of women get into it because there's no old boys club.You could join me."There, she'd said it.It hung in the air like a day old helium balloon.Maybe it'd been too long.Ardelia prayed desperately she hadn't insulted her.

The slow smile came with a brief nod."That sounds wonderful, 'Delia.Thank you for thinking of me.I've got to do something out of the country after I'm done in DC, that is if Agent Black doesn't hang my ass in jail.When I get back I'd like to call you and we could discuss it further.Ok?"

"Sure thing Starling."She wrote her number on the back of the cashier's check and stood up."And I don't want to get anymore information about you second-hand," she said sternly.

"Deal."The women walked to the door and Clarice offered her hand.Ardelia looked at it bemused for a moment, then she used it to pull her into a hug.

"I missed you girl," she whispered.

"Me too."Clarice waved at her friend as she got into the elevator, then closed the door and leaned against it.Maybe she could step back into life.Clarice Starling, PI had a nice ring to it.

The End

   [1]: mailto:calico321@yahoo.com



	4. This Is Not a Love Story

Disclaimer:I do not own any of the original characters or stories; Thomas Harris is the author and creator of 'Clarice Starling', 'Hannibal Lecter', 'Ardelia Mapp', and 'Paul Krendler'.These stories and any new characters are mine (although I will receive no profit from them).Please ask permission to archive.

These are short stories based on my story called, "The Path Not Taken".You don't necessarily have to have read it, but they will make much more sense if you do (and I'd really appreciate it).Each chapter is a separate story, in no particular order.Please read and review.Enjoy!

Story: "This Is Not A Love Story"

Author: Calico [calico321@yahoo.com][1]

Rating: PG-13 for language.

Summary:Clarice and the doctor take a walk.

This is not a love story.At least that is what I've been told.Even the common whore can profess everlasting love while straddling her johns.A husband will claim to love his spouse while beating her into submission.What we have is noble and exquisite; it soars beyond the bounds of this earth.

Not that I disagree, but that's a mouthful when you're in the throws of ecstasy.

Today we are walking down the street where throngs of people of all races and nationalities tread blithely.The sun is high overhead, the sky a brilliant cerulean blue.The buildings rise high in the air, monuments to man's greatest conceits.I won't tell you where we are, that would be foolhardy, don't you agree?

He won't hold my hand as public displays of affection are common, but he walks with his hand firmly against the small of my back.The warm weather permits me to wear a thin cotton dress, and I can feel the heat from his hand as it guides me down the street; it's glorious.I would walk to the ends of the earth, if he so guided me.

Today is our anniversary.Not the anniversary of our wedding; that will come in a few weeks.That day will be greatly celebrated with candlelit dinner, dancing, and a sensual surprise that causes me to lick my lips in anticipation.No, we do not acknowledge today by tacit agreement, it is not noted on any calendar.It is the anniversary of release and freedom.The day sneaks up on us and we seem to unanimously develop an urge for a picnic, or a walk along the beach.Anything to be outside.

Walking down the bustling street I can do nothing but think about that night.That was when I decided to let go, to release the bonds that held me immobilized in life.I find myself wondering what if.What if the Nazis had not overrun his family's home and his baby sister had not served as their main course?What if he had been raised in a solid happy home?Would he still be the renowned "Cannibal", the pure sociopath they all say he is?Most importantly, would I have still been changed by him? I shiver involuntarily at the mere thought that our lives would not have crossed, that I might still be living under the self-same illusions of Fidelity, Bravery, and Integrity.

I find myself stopping and turning towards him; he faces me with a question in his eyes.The river of people continues around us, bustling and jostling with a few choice profanities.They must not know how dangerous it can be to be discourteous to the wrong person these days.I reach up and caress the side of his face.I just can't help myself.My heart pounds with the feelings he instills in me."I love you," I whisper.

With narrowed eyes he turns me and thrusts me forward, using his hand as a rudder he steers me into the crowd and takes a sharp right down an alley.At the back of the alley is a fence, which he pushes me against.Over his shoulder I can see the people continue on their individual journeys.He leans into me and starts the most passionate kiss.A chill runs down to my toes as I open my mouth and receive his tongue.With my eyes closed and heart pounding I lean forward and kiss him back.My own tongue slips into his mouth and I feel as if I could drown in the pleasure.

Without warning the pleasure ceases and I feel him bite my tongue.His teeth are sharp and I have no doubts he could have severed it if he so desired, however he bites hard enough so that when I finally regain it in my mouth I taste my own blood.I am dazed with the shock and pain of it.

With hands on either side of my head against the fence, he bends in close."Would you still _love_ me if I had bitten it off, Clarice?" he hisses.I can feel his sweet breath wash over my face."What would you feel about me if you suddenly lost your _nose_?" He snaps his teeth together centimeters in front of the tip of my nose.I don't think I flinch, but I can't be sure."How can you say you _love_ me when you know what I can _do_ to you?"

I have to compose myself.My tongue is swollen and throbbing, but I will say this perfectly.Slowly, enunciating each word, I say, "I love you because I know you won't."His anger rolls off of him in waves.I once asked him to shine the power of his analytical intellect into his own mind.He was either unwilling or unable.I oft wonder if he feels he should have saved Mischa, or at least taken her place.Does he feel that failure makes him unworthy of love?I wish I could ask him, but of the results I am too afraid."I don't need your permission to express my feelings.Whatever you are afraid of can't be nearly as bad as rejecting love."

"Afraid?"He tastes the word on his lips."Why Clarice, if I didn't know better I 'd suspect you of trying to psychoanalyze me.You may have a degree in psychology, little starling, but that doesn't make you qualified to scrutinize _me_.Tread lightly, My Dear, for both of our sakes."

He regains his composure and backs away from me.I'm suddenly worried I've alienated him.Is it so terrible to want to hear those three little words?He starts to walk away."Hannibal, please," I find myself begging."Please."

He turns back towards me and smiles."Don't panic Clarice.You will just have to be patient with me."He holds his hand out to me and I take it, gratefully.

Out on the street again we continue with our walk.He continues to hold my back.It is as if nothing has happened.From the corner of my eye I look at him; I believe he is smiling.

This is not a love story.Like hell it isn't.

The End.

   [1]: mailto:calico321@yahoo.com



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